


I don't think the conversation's over

by duckdistributor



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Gen, Time Loop, everyone is sympathetic everything is just confusing to everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27799477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckdistributor/pseuds/duckdistributor
Summary: It had been three days since Virgil left.It had been five minutes since Janus decided that he hadn’t.Three days after Virgil leaves, Janus finds himself stuck in a time loop, as he tries to figure out how to make Virgil stay.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 15
Kudos: 46





	I don't think the conversation's over

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Hope you're doing well!  
> I posted this fic about a day ago on tumblr, and I am actually quite proud of it, so I'm gonna post it here too. 
> 
> I wrote it for the prompt "Go. You go and don't even think about coming back here" with anxceit, which was sent to me forever ago by the wonderful @anxiously-creating :D
> 
> Thank you so much to @rainbowbutterfrosting on tumblr for beta-reading this fic! I couldn't have done it without you, Jade! 
> 
> TW: Drowning imagery and needle imagery (used in metaphors), blood and an actual heart (from some Remus shenanigans). Manipulation. There is alcohol in one scene, but no one gets drunk. Cursing. Angst with an ambiguous ending. Tell me if I missed anything!

Janus couldn’t remember exactly what happened the day Virgil left.

Well he did then. Now. In fact, the images were clear and vivid in his mind in a way that sent an uncomfortable numbness through him when he thought about it. There was nothing particularly strange or out of place about the day, which only served to make it seem even more surreal.

It wasn’t that Janus hadn’t noticed anything strange in the time leading up to it. He’d noticed so many fleeting moments and longing glances, that it was hard for him to pinpoint the exact moment they started. He’d tried numerous times, but whenever he thought he’d found it, he remembered a time, a cause, a single hint of things to come, that happened before that, and most of them were too vague for him to find the exact source.

Maybe it was also because he had been remarkable at pretending, he hadn’t seen anything. Hadn’t thought anything of it. Remarkable at his job of pretending, denying, _lying_. It was what he was good at, so really, it shouldn’t be an issue that that was exactly what he was doing.

The morning of the day Virgil left, Janus had barely spoken to the other. He’d awoken in his room and spent an adequate amount of time getting dressed. The first person Janus met outside his door was Remus, darting down the halls holding a beating heart in his hands. It wasn’t unlike other days, and it wasn’t a very influential detail, but Janus found himself recalling it nonetheless. Then Janus started working. Awaiting his chance to let a single lie slip out on Thomas’ otherwise Morality tainted tongue. Awaiting his chance, his moment, his calling to help Thomas with the things the others effortlessly denied him.

One of the moments Janus had started replaying after Virgil left happened at noon. Noon. Not the evening or the night, which was otherwise the time Virgil most frequently made spontaneous decisions that could be prevented with the right words or just a little bit of reason the following day.

Virgil had approached Janus, tense in a way Janus had grown accustomed to, even if it was unlike him. Virgil was always tense, but the exact type of tensity that had been present the last while had been different. Almost spiteful. Angry. And Janus didn’t like it one bit, but he’d grown accustomed to it.

He hadn’t noticed.

“Janus.” Virgil had said, “I need to talk to you.”

The words had sent a flicker of fear through Janus’ veins that he decided he couldn’t quite place. “Just a moment. Can it wait?”

Prolonging inevitability was another one of his talents.

Virgil had clenched his fists and Janus felt anxious, though the anxiety didn’t come from himself. The air was dense with it, practically radiating from the embodiment. It reminded Janus of being in Virgil’s room. “I…” he trailed off and shook his head, “No. No it can’t.”

Janus felt his hand shaking, but he tried his best to hide it. He clenched his jaw, looking at the papers on the table in front of him. “I’m busy.” he said, even though he wasn’t. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. He really shouldn’t have said that.

Virgil opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, and Janus felt his powers flaring up within him, having a hard time resisting the urge to move Virgil’s hand up towards his mouth. Keep the words in there. Though, actions like that would be suspicious and Janus didn’t know why he’d want to do that in the first place. Then Virgil’s mouth closed on it’s own, and Janus heard a deep, growling sigh. “Fine.” Virgil said, leading a hand through his hair. Janus could feel his own heart beating rapidly, though it was probably just the lingering effects of Virgil’s presence. Then Virgil turned around, leaving Janus on his own once again.

And that was it, in more ways than one. That was all the issues that would be that day, he thought. Though really it was also the only chance he had. At least it was an opening.

Maybe he could’ve walked by Virgil’s room, knocked on the door and asked in a gentle way to have a conversation. Maybe he could’ve demanded answers. Maybe he could’ve let just a little bit of vulnerability slip through him. But that wasn’t what he did.

Instead, the rest of the day went by normally. Virgil didn’t show up at lunch, but Virgil didn’t always do that anyway at this point. Virgil went out to help Thomas with something, but that happened frequently these days. Virgil didn’t show up when Remus was wreaking havoc in the kitchen, and Virgil didn’t show up at dinner.

But Virgil was still there. Janus could hear him, saw him walking around with long, goal-oriented steps. The kind Janus only saw when Virgil was at his peak of fight or flight, but Janus couldn’t quite tell which one it was.

And that was when Virgil didn’t show up at all.

He hadn’t gone anywhere else, he wasn’t in his room, he wasn’t anywhere near Janus or Remus for that matter. He’d left a note on the counter, but the second Janus looked at it, in the cold evening air, he had an urge to look away. He couldn’t read it. Couldn’t comprehend it. It was as if the words only dug him deeper into an inescapable pit, and that reading any of them would leave him stuck there for eternity.

Remus gave Janus a hug that night, but Janus didn’t like it one bit. It wasn’t that he was opposed to the hug, that was long, caring, and genuine in a way only Remus could muster. The hug was nice, but it felt out of place. As if it shouldn’t be there, because the pure shock led a needle and thread through Janus’ heart. Every time Remus acknowledged what had happened, showed Janus extra care because of it, and every time it was the other way around, the thread was pulled at, locking his heart in a tight grip, that only served to hurt and cause enough pain to bring Janus to tears. Letting the needle hang there, loosely, only hurting just enough to leave Janus numb, confused, and shocked was preferred, and Janus did so elegantly.

The following days, Janus barely acknowledged anything at all. He walked through his day, occupying himself with his work. Sometimes he stayed in his room for a little longer than he normally did, thinking things over, though it didn’t take long for him to conclude that he didn’t quite want to do that.

It had been three days since Virgil left. Since Janus went from someone in the same group as Virgil to one of the ‘others’. Two days since Virgil ducked out and was picked up by Morality, Logic, and the other Creativity, and joined them as a fourth member. One day since the shock faded just a little and left something else. Something sharper, that suited Janus like his soft and comfortable gloves, but stung like the bite from a pair of fangs.

It had been three days since Virgil left.

It had been five minutes since Janus decided that he hadn’t.

Because why would he really? Virgil had always been one of them. Always belonged right there, working effectively using fear as his weapon. His means. It was effective and useful, and exactly what was necessary to get Thomas to listen. Thomas wouldn’t listen to Virgil forever. Virgil would come back, and everything would go back to normal. It was already normal. Virgil never left in the first place. He was just away, working for longer than usual. Virgil was lying to himself, and everyone else in the process. The idea came to Janus like second nature.

It wasn’t over. Janus still had time. Time to say all the things he’d kept close to the chest. If the situation called for it of course.

And this was the thought he went to sleep with on the third night. The thought that brought him out of his previous mindless trance and lured him into a different one.

The next morning, he woke up along with Thomas. The second the morning light arrived, and something felt different. Or rather, it felt unmistakably familiar. As if the shadows had reached him in that exact same way before, or maybe it was the sounds, or the placement of his things. The way his gloves were lying on his dressing table. Janus couldn’t quite place it until he walked out his door.

“Stolen heart, coming through!” a voice yelled down the hall, rushing right by Janus, sending a gust of air towards him. It was Remus, holding a beating, bleeding heart, just barely missing Janus by a few centimeters. “I can glue googly eyes on it!”

Janus stopped in his tracks, and for a moment he didn’t breathe. Didn’t utter a word or think a single thought. The next he was thinking many, as if the world was flooding and Janus was the only one who could breathe. Or perhaps he was the only one who was drowning. He couldn’t quite tell.

This situation was familiar. Far too familiar for it to be a coincidence. It was the exact same words, the exact same movements, that Janus had been a witness to only… three days ago.

Three days ago.

It had been zero days since Virgil left.

Because the day Virgil was supposed to leave was today, and that thought was strange and uncommon to say the least. The very idea seemed preposterous and the first things Janus thought about was the exact implications of that fact. For one, why exactly had time turned back? There was no way that was what had really happened. It had to be Roman or Remus’ doing, crafting a fake scenario for Janus to be in, didn’t it? Then again, why exactly would they do that?

Perhaps it was something else. Maybe Janus had managed to get himself back there in one way or another. A repeating and vivid memory, but Janus certainly wasn’t doing what he’d done that day right then. He was standing still when he should be moving, and thinking thoughts of potential time travel when he should be working. 

Janus heard a door opening, and he recognized it as Virgil’s door. The sound reached his ears like a wonderful song he’d heard several times before. It was as if the air became calmer and more homely at the mere thought of Virgil being there, as his metaphysical self. There with them. There with Janus. It was as if Virgil hadn’t left in the first place.

Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe Virgil was still there and those past surreal days hadn’t been the slightest bit real. They hadn’t felt real anyway. Regardless, even as Janus felt like he was falling through the air, leaving most of his body momentarily weightless, the thought intrigued him. The idea that it wasn’t over. It hadn’t been real, and maybe this wasn’t either.

The very idea of reality was fragile as a stray leaf. One could pretend to be the judge of what was real or not, but no one could really know for sure. The truth was that if enough people agreed on the same thing, if enough people perceived something, that would count as reality. So if Janus was there, perceiving the world in this way, and everyone around him seemed to do so too, what made this any less of a reality than anything else he’d otherwise experienced?

Then again, Janus wasn’t sure how long this would last, so he decided to play it safe. Change one thing. One possible mistake, to test the waters. If everything changed for the better because of it, that would be a wonderful side-effect, and if nothing changed… Well, who was to say really.

So Janus went to work, and once noon arrived, the sound of Virgil’s shuffling steps made Janus’ entire body tense up anew.

“Janus.” Virgil said, “I need to talk to you.”

The exact same tone of voice. The exact same tension. The words gathered in Janus ' throat, creating an uncomfortable knot of them he couldn’t untie. “What is it?” he managed to choke out, and the voice sounded so broken that Janus felt Virgil’s presence ease up. Becoming less apparent and more on guard. Janus was falling free now. Rapidly darting through the air without an aim or knowledge of what was going to happen. He tried his best to grasp the situation. To gather all his thoughts and his experience with Virgil’s mannerisms, in order to regain control.

“Can we uh-” Virgil shook his head and took a deep and determined breath. “Can we sit down? I have something to tell you.”

A careful request that made Janus feel trapped. The last thing he wanted was to sit down when someone else had asked him to do so. He didn’t want to seem resigned. He didn’t want to feel resigned. Sitting down would make him feel small, unable to gather up the strings he needed. “Of course.” he said anyway, walking towards the kitchen table with controlled steps. He pulled out a chair, and sat down, watching as Virgil clumsily sat down on the chair across, like a student entering a meeting with a teacher. If they had sat down in a different order, Janus would’ve been the student. He felt like he was the one performing and awaiting his feedback nonetheless. When Virgil didn’t speak right away, Janus took the liberty of moving the conversation along. “What seems to be the problem?” Janus said, “You don’t seem troubled at _all_.”

Virgil took a few deep breaths. Janus recognized the pattern. 4-7-8. He looked Janus in the eyes, and Janus once again felt his heart rate increasing, as if it was directly linked to the other’s eyes. Virgil took another deep breath and even after years in Remus’ presence, he couldn’t possibly have been prepared for the bluntness of the words that followed. “I don’t belong here.”

The words were uttered in such a genuine tone, Virgil clearly making a conscious effort to sound indifferent, to keep his anxiety at bay. For Janus’ sake, or his own. It was as if the words were the most natural thing in the world, bound to have been spoken someday either way. Virgil wanted to seem certain, convinced, and determined.

And what baffled Janus the most, was that he succeeded.

“What do you mean?” Janus snapped nonetheless. It was too shaken, too quick, for his liking.

Virgil placed one hand on the table, as if he was desperately looking for something to clutch. At first, he didn’t look Janus in the eyes. “I’m leaving.”

The words stabbed through Janus’ chest, and his thoughts started flowing through him like a chilling wave. He froze. “W-why is that?” he asked, trying to hide his surprised stuttering.

Virgil sighed deeply, and Janus once again felt a strange energy from the other. “I’m not- I don’t belong here. Anywhere.”

Janus wanted to laugh. Wanted to let go of a humorless chuckle at how ridiculously vague that notion was. “What has led you to that conclusion?” he said instead, keeping his expression as calm and unreadable as possible.

Virgil flinched slightly. “It’s… It’s been going on for a while I…” he swallowed something in his throat, “I-”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time up there. With them.” Janus said coolly before he could stop himself.

Virgil groaned quietly, and looked away. “Yeah, so? It’s my job.”

“Yes it is.” Janus said, unsure what his own point was.

“I just… It doesn’t really have anything to do with them or with you or… It’s more… I don’t really think I can… Do my work effectively here.”

Janus froze and tilted his head. “Why not?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

“I feel like… I feel like I’m biased, you know? When I spend all that time around too many...” he cut himself off with a sigh. “I’m Thomas’ anxiety. My first priority is to do whatever it takes to keep him safe. Being here isn’t doing that.” He said without adding anything else. It was torture really, because it meant Janus had the power to leave it there, while everything urged him not to.

“Is that so?” Janus asked, looking Virgil up and down, “It has never bothered you before.”

Virgil took a deep breath, “Maybe I’ll be back. I just… I need some time away.”

 _No you won’t_ Janus thought to himself.

“So you leave us behind because of some suspicion that we’re corrupting your point of view?” Janus said with a weak smile, internally gasping for control, “Just because you’ve developed some sort of morals? An idealized version of the world where staying away from us is the solution to a problem you’ve created?” Janus shouldn’t be saying those things. They were petty, desperate, and not incredibly well-put but he said them anyway.

The energy radiating from Virgil became dense and Janus suddenly found it hard to breathe. “I knew you’d say something like that.” Virgil said, with a frown. He stood up, and moved the chair towards the table with a scraping sound, and Janus suddenly felt very small, as he looked up at Virgil.

“What do you mean?” Janus near-whispered. The first part sounded too weak, so he tried to turn it into a hiss.

“Nevermind I just-” Virgil closed his eyes and took a deep breath, leaning against the chair slightly. He opened his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve made up my mind.” he looked Janus in the eyes, and his expression looked cold and professional, though there was a hint of something pleading. Desperate. “I need some time to myself. I can’t stay here.”

Janus inhaled sharply through his nose. “I still fail to understand why you’re doing it.”

Virgil clenched his fist, standing up from the table. “I’m not… I’m not gonna make this harder than it is. I’m going away. Just…” he took a deep breath, “Just… Just fucking accept it. Please...”

Janus felt fire flaring up inside him at the words, and he started hearing his own breathing much clearer. He quickly stood up, because if he didn’t he felt so small and useless and petty. And he was still petty of course, but he didn’t want it to show. He didn’t want to believe it himself. There was no need to. Not yet. He smiled, “So _I’m_ the one who isn’t accepting things.”

Virgil closed his eyes and breathed. “You’re always insufferable about things like this.” Virgil said, the words coming out a little too quickly, “You always use words to your advantage and you bring Thomas into dangerous and emotionally taxing situations.” he shook his head, “I’m not… I don’t wanna endorse that… It’s more work for me.”

Janus’ breathing became shaky. “You’re acting so beyond it all now, aren’t you.” he hissed, “You hang out with those pretentious bastards, who think they’re morally superior by being accepted so _easily_ by him, and you think you can just do the same.”

Virgil’s eyes became dark. “I’m not expecting the same.” he said, “They’re not going to take me in, and I’m not staying here.”

“You can’t just-”

“Yes I **_can!_** ” Virgil said, his voice booming through the room. Powerful, leaving even Deceit speechless, all of his words taken away almost immediately. Virgil almost looked surprised at himself, dragging a hand down his face and shaking his head, “I’m going.” he said.

And then he did.

The words hung in the air, Janus feeling a strange loss of control he wasn’t quite used to. He was left alone in the room, painfully alone, and the events transpired almost exactly how Janus remembered them, even with a different kind of stinging feeling in his gut.

But it was alright, because it wasn’t real. It was a copy of reality somehow, and Virgil was still there. He had still been there the last time he left.

And that was the thought Janus went to sleep with that night.

On the next day, Janus tried again. He woke up in the same way, in the same place, Virgil, still right nearby. Everything was alright. Nothing had happened yet.

This time, he tried a different approach. He spent time with Remus that day, ignoring his duties, and Virgil didn’t dare approach them at all. It was something Janus had noticed. Virgil was frightened of Remus, and the fear had only grown the past time. The more time Virgil spent up there. It was something that filled Janus with a bitter sort of stinging, that he never allowed to linger, because it wouldn’t get him anywhere anyway.

Virgil didn’t leave that day, but when Janus didn’t know how to approach the next, Virgil ended up leaving then instead.

But it was alright, because it wasn’t real. It was a hypothetical that Janus wasn’t going to experience the stinging feeling of. At least he wouldn’t for real. It would stay there for a little, but it was fake and deceitful, so it didn’t matter at all.

And that was the thought Janus went to sleep with that night.

So Janus tried again. And again.

A pattern started. A repetitive sort of pattern, even if it was never the same each time. It always ended the same way, with little variations here and there.

He tried approaching Virgil first, which only made the conversation more awkward, because it started before Virgil had anticipated it.

Janus tried remaining calm in the exchange with Virgil, which he failed at multiple times, before he found a decent combination of words that only served to make Virgil leave faster. Made him leaving easier.

Janus tried to act friendly and truthful, but Virgil naturally, didn’t believe a word of it.

One time, he tripped Remus, which led him to drop the heart on Virgil, which made Virgil breathe faster, shake his head and run off. When Janus tried approaching him, Virgil sounded more spiteful than ever.

Janus tried not leaving his room at all, merely lying down in a hopeless and pathetic position, that didn’t suit his aesthetic in any way. Not that anyone would see that of course. Fortunately.

But it was alright, because it wasn’t real.

It wasn’t real, and yet the stinging feeling lingered unchangeably.

Janus groaned at himself.

He went to sleep, and woke up with a terribly tempting idea.

They had their conversation, as usual, though Janus held back this time. He allowed Virgil to leave once he’d given his explanation, and that almost seemed to make Virgil reluctant. Janus wasn’t sure if he liked the reluctance, but he didn’t like the lack of it either, so he settled on remaining indifferent to the reluctance. He allowed Virgil to leave, and that was what Virgil did.

But that time, Janus decided to try to take drastic measures. He wasn’t sure what his thought process was as he did it, but he had the range of both a planner and an improviser, and the two weren’t as different for him as one might expect.

So when Virgil ducked out, he merely stopped anyone but him and Remus from showing face.

It wasn’t as hard as one might expect, when you were in charge of Thomas’ lies, because for a few fleeting moments, Janus could easily make it seem as if Virgil was never gone in the first place. Ha. Ironic. They’d all started considering Virgil’s practical function, a face which made Janus bitter to no end, though he wasn’t sure why. He made sure the others didn’t notice at first, and once Virgil had stayed out for a sufficient amount of time, Janus went to Remus.

“Virgil is gone.” he stated.

Remus blinked. “Yeah, no shit.”

“No Remus, he has ducked out. We need to go check on him. _Now_.”

Janus wasn’t sure how he would’ve sounded if this situation had happened for real. He wasn’t sure if he’d act more or less concerned.

Or well, he knew sort of. Last time he’d stayed out of it because he was hiding. Because he was processing and living in a state of shock. Because he held onto the hope that maybe Virgil would decide to return to them, after having the time to think, instead of remaining ducked out.

Or maybe Virgil would be saved by someone else. Someone who deserved him.

No, those weren’t the types of thoughts Janus had, he remembered.

“Shit really?” Remus said, with widened eyes, “What about his new fuck-buddies, have they noticed?”

“They’re not buddies at all.” Janus said. Not yet anyway. “And I’m not sure. Perhaps they’re not as perceptive as they think they are.”

And so, the two of them went to Virgil’s room. A dangerous thing to do to be sure. Janus wouldn’t normally suggest doing so at all, but Remus followed him anyway, because that was what Remus did for him. Though perhaps this time it was for Virgil.

Virgil appeared abruptly after a moment of silence. His posture was tense, and something in his expression seemed to change entirely once he realized who had come for him. “What are you… What are you doing in my room?” he asked, seemingly panicked, though there was something else. Something genuinely questioning.

Why are _you_ here?

“We saw you were gone.” Janus said, “We were worried.”

“It’s… It’s none of your business!” Virgil said, scowling unconvincingly.

“Ah, as a part of Thomas, I beg to differ.” Janus retorted. He took a deep breath. “Why have you made this decision?”

“I’m ducking out.” Virgil said with a shrug, “Thomas doesn’t need me. I’m only bringing him pain, and the others don’t want me there anyway. I’m just getting in the way.”

Janus inhaled sharply, looking at Virgil. “And who the fuck, caused you to believe that?”

Virgil started smiling in the fed up and insincere sort of way, “Everything, Deceit. And it doesn’t matter. Just leave.”

The name ‘Deceit’ stung a little. But Janus ignored it. “They… They’ve always made us feel unwanted. They don’t understand why we’re needed and its rubbing off o-”

“There is no _us_!” Virgil hissed, but Janus knew that particular hiss well enough to know, that it wasn’t wholehearted. There was something hidden, something vulnerable.

And because Janus was Janus, and manipulating, lying and uncovering and hiding secrets was his thing, he wanted to get through to it. “You’re right.” he said, which made Virgil turn his head slightly, “There is you, and you’re necessary, Virgil. Thomas needs you to survive. You used to understand that quite well. We talked about it, how we were being hidden by their thoughts and feelings. How they didn’t believe us, no matter what we said.” he took a deep breath, and his voice shook for the words that followed. Janus couldn’t tell if it was real or not. “But I admit, I was playing into that perception of things. I have a habit of doing that, whether I like it or not. Now you’re on your own. You want to choose your own path but… Is it really your own, if you’ve decided that they’re right?”

Virgil was inspecting Janus now, in a way that made Janus feel a little uneasy. Janus could read Virgil better than Virgil could read Janus, but being around one another for so long did give you some advantages. Virgil’s weakness was accidentally finding meaning that wasn’t there. Malicious intent where there shouldn’t be any. And maybe Janus was the same sometimes, but of course he wouldn’t say that out loud. “I don’t… I don’t trust you.”

“You don’t have to. They’re not here, Virgil.” Janus said, and that time the words stung. He looked down. “We noticed you were gone, it was… It’s frightening really. I know we’re not on the best terms, but… I can’t… It’s not right that you feel this way. You have value, Virgil. You’re an important side, just like everyone else is, and I apologize if anyone, including myself, made you believe otherwise.”

The words felt sharp, and Janus wasn’t sure if he meant them. He wasn’t certain of anything, but it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t thinking right now, and he wasn’t himself right now. He was testing something in a reality that was only real for the time being, because Janus was going to make it disappear soon enough.

Virgil was as still as a statue for a few moments. The only parts of him moving were his eyes, and Janus wasn’t entirely sure what they were saying, but he knew his words had had some sort of effect. That part was easy to tell.

“I…” Virgil said shakily after a little, his breathing speeding up, “You never… You never wanted me to leave.”

“No.” Janus said, and that part was true, at least that made the most sense. “Did I ever make you believe otherwise.”

Virgil shook his head. “No. No _I_ wanted to leave. I wanted… I didn’t want to be biased or… Or…”

“And here you are.” Janus said, because maybe he was a little cruel. Maybe he was a little bit terrible just now, that he had gone so long without consequences. Because it didn’t matter.

“I don’t…” Virgil said, barely audibly, as he let himself slide down into a sitting position against the wall, hugging his knees and shaking his head as he whispered something Janus couldn’t make out.

Virgil looked so helpless. It was unlike him. Virgil was the embodiment of anxiety, sure, but he always had an instinct. An instinct to run or an instinct to jump at whatever was bringing harm. Fight or flight.

But now, Virgil was just sitting there, a few tears in his eyes. “They wouldn’t have come for me. They shouldn’t.” Virgil said, “But you did.” the words sounded dark and empty, but there was a hint of sincerity underneath it.

This wouldn’t happen, unless Virgil was particularly vulnerable of course. And he was. He was stuck and he felt alone. Isolated and unwanted. Which was exactly what made it so easy for Janus to get through to him.

A part of Janus wanted to shake Virgil, and beg him not to let him do that. Not to let Janus’ words get through, because Janus’ words were cruel and unreliable, and in a different and not so distant world, Virgil would’ve had something else.

Virgil was crying, his eyes turning red, and he hid his face in his hands. Remus hesitantly reached out to touch Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil tensed up for a moment, though he quickly eased into it. Janus swallowed something in his throat, walking closer. He wrapped his arms around Virgil gently.

Virgil sobbed. “I d-don’t…. I shouldn’t…. Fuck.” his breathing became unsteady, and Janus shushed him comfortingly. 

Janus could tell that Virgil truly believed the others wouldn’t have been there. Wouldn’t have realized. Janus knew that they would have.

But Janus was, in all the ways that mattered, an unreliable narrator.

“Shh, it’s alright stormcloud.” he whispered softly, “We wouldn’t leave you behind.”

The words that were unsaid were easy to read, and if Janus dared to think about it, it was easy to tell that there was manipulation at play. Janus had a tendency to get carried away. To do things like that to achieve his goal. But Janus wasn’t trying to achieve a goal right then. He had nothing to achieve, because he knew he’d make it all start over by the end of it. He wasn’t going to let it stay like this. Holding Virgil close, and having Virgil trust him, at least a little bit. Virgil still cared about him, and let Remus touch him, and it sent a wonderful but deceitful feeling through Janus’ entire body.

God, this was such a selfish timeline.

Virgil came back with them, and his walls went up. He no longer believed the kind words he was told by the ‘light sides’. His fight or flight instincts at an all time high.

But he believed in Janus’ words, and that was comforting for however long it lasted. It didn’t take long for it to become an uncomfortable ordeal, and Janus convinced himself it wasn’t real, because it was the most unrealistic scenario yet. Janus wouldn’t allow that level of vulnerability for himself.

Virgil stayed. He stayed for real that time. He didn’t leave the next day, and Janus didn’t think he was going to leave at any point in time.

Virgil was so much more on guard. He believed Janus. And if that wasn’t the most upside down and unrealistic scenario Janus could possibly think of, he wasn’t sure what that was.

Janus soon came to realize that he hated it. He hated the way Virgil seemed broken. Scared. Vulnerable and confused, in a way Janus had never seen before. Not at that scale.

And it hurt. It hurt so much more than any of the other scenarios had, and he wasn’t sure why.

Because Virgil was _there_ but was he really?

But it didn’t matter. Nothing did. Because it wasn’t real. _Of course_ it wasn’t real.

And that was the thought Janus went to sleep with that night.

He felt relieved when he awoke to the same light, and to the same position of everything in his room.

But the relief didn’t last long, because it was soon replaced with a sinking and dreadful feeling, that annoyed Janus to no end.

He decided to try some variations of that scenario. He knew how to make Virgil stay, so perhaps he could make it feel _right._

Janus tried. He tried so many times.

He didn’t like getting Virgil after ducking out, so he tried to stick with keeping Virgil there at the very beginning. Making the others make Virgil feel even more unwanted proved to be counter-productive. Making Virgil feel wanted, just heightened the guilt as Virgil inevitably left.

He did eventually manage to find a pattern that made Virgil stay, by pulling just the right strings and keeping everyone in the right place at the right time, but by the time he’d figured it out he was too tired to maintain it all for enough resets for it to make any sense. It still didn’t feel right anyway. Even when Virgil was there, he wasn’t truly there. There was either longing or emptiness present, and Janus didn’t like the way either of them stung, and made him feel helpless. He didn’t like the way Virgil looked whenever he said those same words over and over again.

Janus didn’t like anything about any of this, but he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

So he decided to do something out of character for him. Again. Because why the hell not?

That day, Janus didn’t do his work. At the very start of his day, he vanished and reappeared in the kitchen where the others usually hung out in the mornings. No one was there yet. Janus had apparently woken up early. He sat on the kitchen counter for a little while, inspecting his hands and glancing at the surroundings occasionally. He imagined Virgil, walking around in that kitchen every day, laughing and enjoying his time around the others. It was surreal to imagine, and filled Janus with a bittersweet sort of longing he didn’t want to read into.

After a little, Patton walked through the door. His eyes widened at the sight of Janus. “Deceit!?” he said, his voice sharp and quiet.

Janus huffed and smirked. He looked down at himself. “Why, it would seem so.”

Patton looked befuddled and skeptical. “What are you… What are you doing here Deceit? Y-you can’t be here.

“What?” Janus asked, innocently tilting his head, “Can’t a side roam around freely in his own Thomas?”

Patton clenched his fists and shook his head. “He… He is not-”

“Not mine?” Janus hummed, “My mistake. I thought we were _all_ parts of him.”

Patton tensed up. “What do you… What do you want?”

Janus stood up from the counter, which made Patton jump back slightly. Funny really, after everything. Janus opened a cupboard and took out a bottle of wine, pouring some into a glass, making himself at home. It was quite amusing, how Patton was far too polite to stop him. He took the glass in his hand, and sipped from it. “Would you like some, Morality?” he said, holding it out.

Patton inhaled sharply. “What do you want?” he asked again.

Janus swirled around the beverage in his wine glass. “Oh nothing special. Really I’m just quite fed up.” he chuckled lightly.

Patton looked more confused than ever. “Fed up? With what?”

Janus hummed, sending Patton a tired but amused smile. “Everything keeps repeating and he always comes back to you. I am quite sick of this really, I don’t know why I bother.” he laughed, “In fact, I’m not quite sure how to make it stop.”

Patton furrowed his eyebrows, stepping a little closer, cautiously. “Are you… Are you alright? What’s this about.”

Janus laughed suddenly. “Oh look at him.” he said amusedly, “He is asking me if _I’m_ alright.” he sighed, “Tell me Morality, what am I missing?”

“Missing?”

“I keep trying and trying to make things right, but I keep ending up back in the same place. I’m not sure if I want to make things right. It’s as if it's impossible either way. Am I just cursed to repeat this cycle forever? Relive my failure every single day, until something beyond my control fixes it?” he took a sip of the wine. He smiled at Patton. “I try and I try, yet he always comes back here, and when he doesn’t, it’s simply painful for everyone involved. Why is that? You always act like you’re oh so knowledgeable on these sorts of issues. Share your wisdom, will you?”

“Deceit, you’re not making any sense. Are you sure the wine is a good idea?” Patton asked.

Janus sighed. “Nothing really is, is it? But it doesn’t matter. You see Morality, I think I’ve gotten myself stuck in a time loop.”

That seemed to catch Patton off guard. “You- You what?” he asked.

“A time loop yes.” Janus said, sipping his wine, “I go to sleep and I wake up on the same day. Never really continues on for more than three, it’s quite funny how that works out.” he looked around the room, circling Patton. His shoes made a hollow noise against the ground as he did so. “And see, later today Virgil is going to tell me that he is going to leave. We’re either going to have some variation of a fight, or he’ll leave quietly after being dismissed enough. Not too long after that, he intends to duck out, and you will all come get him. Then he’ll feel accepted by you, and going back to _us_ isn’t even in the cards.” he sighed.

Patton still looked confused, though there was a hint of something sympathetic on his face. As if he was reconsidering something. It was hilarious to see that on him really, though Janus couldn’t help but be a little intrigued by it. He wondered if he’d ever get to see something like that again. In a different timeline perhaps. “Have you found a way to... Break, that cycle?”

“No that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he huffed, “Or perhaps I have and I am simply too petty to let go of this. Not unlike me, I’ve learned.”

Patton bit his lip. “That sounds… That sounds pretty bad.” he took a step closer, “You do seem different.”

Oh, that tone was a little too sweet. A little too relieved. “I’m not whoever it is you want me to be.” Janus simply said, “I am simply asking you why he keeps coming to you instead. Why I’m stuck here, I suppose. So please, do give me some advice and make yourself useful, would you?” he tried not to sound pleading, but he wasn’t sure what feeling he was actually trying to convey. It wasn’t indifference, but that was what he was used to. He wouldn’t have said that much if he was trying to be indifferent. No, Janus wasn’t indifferent to this. Maybe he wasn’t even as annoyed as he led himself or this one hypothetical version of Patton to believe.

Janus was drowning, floating helplessly in the middle of the ocean, somehow always making it just above sea level before he was swallowed into it again. Always finding it difficult to catch his breath, but always making it anyway. Waiting and trying again and again, until he’d find a way to land, or until he’d give up and let himself hit the ocean floor.

Patton bit his lip, seemingly unsure of what to say. Janus almost had the urge to laugh. He wasn’t sure why he’d sought out him or this place anyhow. “I’m… That is a bit of a pickle isn’t it?” Patton said. Janus huffed, because it hadn’t been the first description of the situation on his mind, but of course that was something Patton would say. “Have you tried talking to him about it?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “That’s what starts the fight.” he said, “And when it doesn’t he just leaves a day or so later, or he…” he felt something within him freezing, “It doesn’t end well.” he said quietly.

“I see…” Patton said. They were both quiet for a few breaths, and Janus wondered if Patton had given up, and was only staying put to be polite. Ha, polite to Janus, even. What a hilarious thought. “Maybe you can’t stop him.” Patton said, “It’s… It’s not the answer I want to give, but… If that’s really what he wants?”

Janus felt a tug at his heart and was about to open his mouth to say something. To shout. To cry. To give a quick and witty remark. But Patton interrupted whatever it was Janus was going to do.

“I know it’s not… Not that helpful coming from me, but if you’re really stuck the way you say you are, maybe… Maybe it’s best to just leave it, and… And see if that helps?”

Janus took a deep breath, hearing it and feeling it uncomfortably clearly. He was painfully aware of the beating of his heart, and the silence of the room now that no one was saying anything anymore. Then he looked up at Patton, inspecting the side’s face. “I’m good at change, usually.” he said quietly, “So why can’t I just let him go?”

Something slipped into Patton’s expression. Something sad, and sympathetic that made Janus’ skin crawl because nothing like that was supposed to be directed at him, and if it was, it was only a sign that he’d shown too much weakness.  
But it didn’t matter, because this wasn’t reality. How was Janus supposed to go back to reality now? “Letting go is… It’s very hard.” Patton said, “I-I’m not sure how to handle it either. Maybe just… Try to say what you want to say? Let him know you care and stuff… Maybe it’ll make it all a little easier in the end.”

Janus swallowed something in his throat, closed his eyes and shook his head. “Oh, Morality… If only I knew how to do that.” Patton’s expression once again turned painfully sympathetic, and Janus sighed deeply. He looked at Patton once more. “Thank you for your time, Morality. I shall take my leave now. Tomorrow’s today awaits.”

And it did. Just as it always did.

Janus felt very distant that day, and decided to take another day to himself, to think things through. Not that he hadn’t thought everything through already.

Or maybe he hadn’t really. It was as if some thoughts were trying to creep into his mind right before they were shoved out the door like unwanted light after being in the dark long enough.

Janus was breathing heavily, in a way that could be confused as a series of groans. After that, they could easily be confused as sobs, and the unrelated water in his eyes didn’t help very much with preventing that. He huffed. Then he started laughing, in such a weak and broken way, that he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. He hated it. Hated the sound of it. Janus was brilliant. Janus liked himself, more so than most of those idiots.

But he didn’t like this. Didn’t like the broken laughter, or the treacherous tears, or the way his heart stung, and the way he was drowning and drowning, and so close to just giving up on making it to the surface.

It was pathetic really. Janus was being pathetic and petty, and he usually knew better than that. At least he always hoped he did. He always tried to. Always said he did, and words weren’t too far from the truth if you believed them strongly enough.

After a while, he wasn’t sure how long, an hour, a minute, a day, he stopped. He sighed deeply, as he wiped the leftover tears away. It didn’t matter, because it wasn’t real.

God, was he sick of that.

And that was the thought Janus went to sleep with that night.

He once again woke up in familiar surroundings with a new sort of empty determination.

It didn’t matter what he did, because Virgil would always end up in the same place, and Janus would always be left behind. And it didn- It mattered. He needed it to matter, because otherwise the feelings and the hurt were pointless and they wouldn’t get anything done.

It was that morning, Janus finally came to the conclusion, that if he wanted Virgil in his life, it wasn’t going to happen in the span of those three days. He needed to prove himself.

He needed to earn it.

“Janus.” Virgil said, “I need to talk to you.”

Janus felt resigned. Incomplete and broken as he replied. “Yes. What is it?”

“Can we uh-” Virgil shook his head and took a deep and determined breath. “Can we sit down? I have something to tell you.”

And they did. Janus didn’t offer a retort, at first, but he did after a little, because it was necessary. If he wanted it to be real, he needed it to appear real.

4-7-8. “I don’t belong here.” Virgil said.

“What has led you to that conclusion?” Janus asked only almost reading off a script, but not quite. He was used to this exchange, and he wasn’t sure what would cause it to be over.

Virgil flinched slightly. “It’s…”

“It’s been going on for a while, hasn’t it?” Janus asked, “I’ve noticed.”

“You…” Virgil took a deep breath, and looked at Janus with a confused expression, “You have? I mean…” he sighed, “Of course you fucking have.”

Janus hummed. “And now you want to leave, because you think we’re having a negative effect on your point of view.”

Virgil’s mouth gaped slightly. He furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t-”

“And now you’re going to leave.” Janus said, “You’re going to leave and you’re not going to come back. You think you’re leaving to be by yourself, but that’s not where you’re going to end.” Janus said. Virgil looked surprised at Janus’ words. Janus chuckled slightly. “And maybe I’m fine with that.” he said quietly, “But that’s not how I feel. Not quite.” he shook his head, “And it doesn’t matter, because you’re leaving anyway.”

The realism had died, and now Janus was simply talking.

“And it’s going to be painful.” he said, “For everyone involved. A strange change around the place, and I don’t doubt there are going to be several conflicts surrounding that in the future. Maybe it’ll even have a positive impact of sorts that you’re with them. Eventually.” he looked at Virgil, who was looking dumbfounded.

“Why do you… Why do you think you know that so well?” Virgil asked.

And so, Janus slipped right back into himself. Into comfortable territory. “Oh, because you know yourself _so well_. That’s why you’re going on this little soul-searching journey. Because you have a _great_ grasp on who you are.” he huffed, and Virgil scowled, though the confusion was still visible.

“I’m leaving.” Virgil said then.

“Good.” Janus said, and the word hung darkly in the air. “Go.” he added like a hiss, almost desperately, “You go and don’t even _think_ about coming back here.”

Virgil shook his head, looking confused.

And then he turned around abruptly and left.

Janus went to bed.

And woke up on the same day.

That wasn’t what he was really going to do. No, instead he decided to get absorbed in his work once again. He lets the unsaid words and the tension hang in the air, and before he knew it, Virgil was gone. Remus was holding Janus, and they were alone.

One day passed, and Virgil ducked out and was picked up again, safely. Another passed, and it had been three days.

And time would continue to pass. Because this was real, and couldn’t be undone. The conversation was over, and maybe that part never happened at all.

And that was the thought Janus went to sleep with that night.

And on the fourth, Janus woke up, half expecting Remus running through the halls with a beating heart in his hands once again. He waited in his room, and peeked out his door. There was no Remus in sight.

Four days had passed. Everything had changed, and Janus was no longer stuck. Everything was new. Uncharted territory. Janus sighed, half with relief, and half with something he couldn’t even interpret himself.

Janus couldn’t remember exactly what happened the day Virgil left.

It was a cluttered mess of dark and unpleasant feelings. Words stinging his tongue and his heart, and a numbness he couldn’t quite place. There were so many experiences and situations mashed together, and Janus wasn’t entirely sure what was real and what wasn’t.

But regardless of what happened, Janus was watching from the sidelines, waiting for his time to strike. Because that was what he was supposed to do. That was what made the most sense.

And perhaps one day, things would change. Janus could feel change all around him now. He could tell he wasn’t going through the same day twice, or thrice or God knows how many times. Time passed, and that left room for change. Janus was usually good with change.

Perhaps one day, things would change. But that was not today, because today Janus was lurking in the background, catching a potential opportunity to do something up close. He looked into his full-length mirror, as he made a quick change to his appearance. Glasses and the cardigan he remembered seeing on Morality in the past, sending himself an innocent smirk. Today, Janus had work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. Feel free to leave a comment or kudos if you did!
> 
> You can also find the fic on tumblr right here: https://dramaticsnakes.tumblr.com/post/636144612392714240/i-dont-think-the-conversations-over
> 
> Or you can just find me at @dramaticsnakes


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